


your absence; my nightmare

by khrysopos



Category: Naruto
Genre: A little angsty?, Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, no beta we die like men, not much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysopos/pseuds/khrysopos
Summary: In which you can't find peace of mind without tobirama by your side.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	your absence; my nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> these last few weeks i have been having nightmares due to stress, i think, so i decided to unwind by writing this! if you feel like it, please go check out my tumblr gorgondemi and support me!! also, no capitalization bc i wrote this on tumblr and who cares about caps anyway (i'm sorry if you do oops)

days spend without tobirama by your side had become a normal occurrence over the past couple of months — a drastic change, all thanks to a skirmish with a neighboring village, and while tobirama had made sure no war was going to break out, the situation was still delicate as nerves tilted over the edges. you loved you husband, and while you respected and understood his position as hokage, there _were_ days a small, bitter, selfish part of you wished he’d think about early retirement.

days like this for instance, where you woke up from a horrible and vile nightmare and longed to feel his strong and warm arms around you, his chest pressed against your back and his breaths shallow in your ear.

days when tobirama _did_ sleep in _,_ you’d turn around and gaze at his face, taking the time to watch how his eyelashes would flutter against his cheeks, white as snow, and the way his face would relax against the pillows.

(he’d always have that nasty intimidating look in his eyes when he was awake, eyes glinting viciously like rubies)

and then, when you’ve finally drank him all up, bathed up in warm sunlight and muffled little snores, you’d pepper his face with kisses and his annoyed grunts would be music to your ears. he pretended to hate it but you’d always catch him smiling once in a while.

you lived for those moments, something so sweet, so domestic and warm, it was like honey trickling down your throat and into your heart — the feeling was welcoming and endearing. it was safe, with him by your side, and when he’d leave he would take some of that with him, but that’s okay, you told yourself. tobirama would come back, and you would be complete again, warm and safe and no amount of bad dreams would be capable of ruining your mood.

but, at times like this where you’re left alone, in a house too big for one person, too empty and too cold, you felt the full effect of those dreams — images buried deep within your brain and behind your eyes like thorns, and your stomach rolled uncomfortably. the smell stayed with you all day.

in the dream, the smell of carrion flowers, strong and rotten, made your eyes water. the moss under your back, the dirt sticking on your sweat slicked skin, bits of wood and rocks digging into your flesh, and someone above you. the person was blurry, and whether he was holding a knife or a sword it was the same.

your mind screamed _danger_ and your body jerked away, springing up on the bed, panting and gripping the comforters for dear life. whether it was from your own will, or by the sound of a blade sinking into flesh; sickening and forcing its way inside, breaking your bones and thrusted deep inside your heart.

you were rattled and miserable for the remaining of the week. you were tired, worn to the bone from all of those sleepless nights and torments — vivid images of blood, torn up bodies, gutted and rotten and maggot infested. people you knew, people you’ve only seen around the village occasionally.

the end was the same; you, alone, surrounded by death and blood that flowed on the ground like rivers and absorbed through the ground, as if it was water for trees and plants.

you were laying on the bed, night gown thrown over your body carelessly and in an indignant manner. you were once again trying to catch some few hours of sleep. get your sleeping schedule in order, maybe put yourself in a new routine so as to not feel so useless and tired during the day. 

But, like many other things, your needs and wants never came first to the gods above, because as soon as you’d close your eyes they’d sprung open again, as if they were thirsting for sight in the darkness.

you slammed a pillow over your head and groaned, twisting and turning and fumbling around the bed, trying to find the right and most comfortable position.

restlessness, frustration, despondency. 

Silent, discouraged tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. you were so tired and you couldn’t relax enough to go to sleep anymore, your head felt heavy, like a bag of rocks, but your eyes were wide open.

usually, the stillness of the house in the dead of night would be broken by tobirama’s little puffy snores (he refused to acknowledge that there was any possibility he’d snore), or the light scratching of his pen while he was staying up late in his office next door, sometimes accompanied by the rustling of leaves outside the window, as if whispering _“we’re here too.”_

his presence, though as somber and stern it may be at times, brought you the utmost comfort and tenderness — it screamed tobirama senju.

your heart strings tugged painfully inside your chest and you finally got up from the cold bed, lagging the pillow behind you, careful not to let it touch the floor. the crickets outside the window brought you some much needed noise to fill the chilly quietness, you briefly wondered how pathetic you could get.

the answer was a lot apparently.

a minute after you slipped out of the room, you crossed the threshold of tobirama’s office and sat on his chair, the pillow on your lap and your tears unspilled, a pout forming on your face as you picked up a fountain pen and started doodling on one of the papers left on the desk, the upper left corner crumbled, as if someone had grabbed it roughly in a fist, and stained with ink. you could just make out tobirama’s handwriting, neat yet jumbled here and there.

despite yourself you smiled a little at the detail that caught your eye — he was patient, and yet grumpy at times. 

tobirama always wanted to be moving forward, and being stuck in a desk writing report after report was inconceivably tedious to him, apparent by the jumbled letters and sharply written words on the parchment. why, you could just make out his exasperated and tired scowl on his face as if he was in front of you.

now you snorted at the image, a deep rooted memory you had of him, endearing and amusing despite your husband’s chagrined expression and the tight grip on his pen.

you got up from the chair and walked towards the small elegant couch facing the desk, the crumpled and ink stained piece of paper between your fingers, caution as to not crumple it any further, least of all tobirama needed it when he came back.

_when he’d come back._

you laid your head back against the plush pillow – rich red stitching with gold threaded details – and placed the piece of paper on your stomach. closing your eyes, you concentrated on emptying your mind, and you soon found that it was considerably more easy there than when you were on the bed. 

the office smelled like polished wood and paper, new and old, whitw and yellow. the small subtle tinge of the untouched ink was lingering –fading – in the air. the window was cracked open just a bit for the cool night breeze to come inside, and the sound of a tree branch scratching the glass, in combination with the harmony of the crickets, brought a soothing silence.

all those familiar smells and all this endearing sounds – save from the scratching of pen on paper and the occasional protesting and displeasure groan, deep and velvet – relaxed your body almost automatically and, before you knew it, all those things that made this house a home, warm and loving, winsome and luscious, put you to sleep, just in time to miss the first round of chirping birds perching on the tree.

when you woke up your mind was groggy, heavy with sleep and eyes shut tight, refusing to open. with a start you realized two things; one, even though you distinctly remember falling asleep on the small elegant couch, you were now laying on your bed with the comforter wrapped around your body, very much like a warm hug. two, there was something draped around your waist and holding you down — heavy, pleasant, and with an exceptionally familiar comfortable pressure.

your back was against something big, rising up and down with each breath, tickling your ear and making your heart sing.

you moved, scooting away from the body behind you. the arm around you tightened, and calloused fingers from years of fighting left light, feather like touches on your sides, denting the skin softly from outside your nightgown and making their touch known. a grumble, low and groggy with protest next to your ear.

and then a voice. “I told you not to sleep on that damned couch anymore.” it made your body twitch.

“i –,” the words seemed stuck in your throat. you gulped, licked your lips, “i missed you,” as if that was enough explanation, and maybe it was.

 _he_ did _come back._

tobirama hummed in confirmation, his way of saying _‘i missed you too’_ and scooted you closer to his own body. He settled his head on your shoulder, his breathing becoming shallow again as he slipped back to sleep. his fingers traced small, soft circles on your skin, much like a lullaby. 

you melted back into the sheets, pressing your body further against his. the sought warmth that you were missing all those days was there, tobirama’s scent surrounded you. like a blanket, your worries were lifted and your head was left in a state of a comfortable buzz, happy and content and serene.

for once – after days filled with terror stricken nightmares and hazy thoughts reinforced from lack of sleep – you saw nothing, and had one of the most fulfilling days of sleep.


End file.
